Intermarium
by Insouciamia
Summary: You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore. Polish-Lithuanian War/Międzymorze
1. Chapter 1

Title: Intermarium  
Author: fal1ingstars, Catch Falling Stars  
Pairing/Characters: Pol/Liet, Poland centric  
Summery: You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore.

Disclaimer: Do you honestly think I own anything?

* * *

You didn't see anything wrong in doing it. You didn't know what you had done wrong, he was breathing softly, eyes closed, and there was so much blood. Oh God, you didn't realize that there would be so, so much blood. You didn't do anything wrong after all.

It was for the best right? His heart was always yours, it had never belonged to anybody else, and now it was yours again. But at the price. His eyes were fearful now, and you turn away, still holding onto his faint heart like it was a lifeline, a beacon for the dark days coming ahead.

You and he were once great together, Intermarium, a partnership, best friends, and so the carefree days passed on, you riding through the steppes, wings flying behind you and he following you, sword raised, charging against the infidels, defending Christianity and the Commonwealth together, happily.

You and him were the golden duo, the partners that could seemingly do nothing wrong, and you had big dreams of one day, a fairness for everybody, the Golden Liberty.

You had those big dreams, you knew that your big dreams were going to happen one day, he however, was a bit more cynical. He was always worried about you, and you always thought that it was kind of cute, the way he worried.

You would grin, a dazzling smile and promise that it would all work out, even if you had to let go of his territories, Belarus and Ukraine. You never thought about whether it would hurt him or not, you just continued, hoping for the best.

Then one day, when the night fell quickly, you realized that your dreams weren't going to happen. You realized that you were too much of a idealist, that the Golden Liberty was going to be the fall of you. He stood by your side, he fought against the inevitable fall of the Commonwealth, and was dragged away still believing that you would save him in the end.

You too became trapped soon, a Nation without a country, with no citizens and no place to call home.

You drifted off, never useful in discussions, and your eyes would feel wet whenever somebody mentioned your Golden Liberty or your freedom that you had lost. You didn't fit into any European court, happiest when you were off by yourself, with the faint memory of him, riding off into the steppes, believing that you could go on forever again, like how it was.

But there would always be a village in front of you, a messenger would be waiting for you, and you turned back, and rode back to the home that wasn't a home.

You tried to escape, but then you would be entangled in your strings again. There would be deportations of your people and his, and you would ask a stranger how he was doing under the new regime.

It was always bad news, and you shut yourself out of hearing him tell of the woes, you grew numb soon and walked off. You would then return back to the court, and dream of freedom. You would saddle a horse again, and try to ride off. Only to get caught in the hidden strings of a masterful puppeteer.

You simply became a puppet, and lived each day in a foggy haze as more of you became gobbled up, became dissolved in favors of the three rising powers. You would protest at times, fight back, but there would be no use in doing that.

You hoped that he, wherever he was, would be better off then you. You promise yourself that you were going to visit him one day, you promised yourself that you were going to apologize to him, but as the days went on, you forgot him in favor of some rest after a hard day of working.

Soon war came again, and your dreams became clouded with visions of him. You finally decide to visit him again, to ask him how he was doing. You knew that one day soon, your bondage would break and you would be free once again to roam the steppes, and he would follow you willingly like it was the old days.

So you waited, and one day, finally you gained your freedom after two hundred years. Freedom tasted like a hot pierogi after a cold day, and you saddled your horse for a visit to him.

You were surprised that he wasn't free yet. You quietly slid off your horse, and begged for silence. You left the horse chewing on the wildflowers in the meadows, and you slowly walk over to the garden where you knew instinctively he would be.

And you watched as he continued to sweep the courtyard, hair pinned up and silent. You wanted to say something to him, but you become shy and the run away. He hears the noise, and follow. You start running, but not too quickly, so he could catch up to you.

He finally caught up, breathing heavily, and you give him one of your dazzling grins. You smile is contagious, and he smiles back happily. Then, all shyness forgotten, you race towards him and catch him in your arms, and you feel like you had never been happier.

He was a bit more hesitant, although you disregard that fact for a moment. You call him by his proper name, and tell him after everything that had happened with great sighs and "Isn't that like, totally unfair!?"

He replies with a nod, and a careful look behind, and he sits with you and listen. Your words pour out towards him, you speak quickly, laugh quickly, laughing more in a hour with him then two hundred years with the other Nations.

He listens patiently, smiling but he seemed slightly detacted. You tell him to listen, and he resumes listening. He seemed so happy for you, that you still couldn't believe it. The hours passed quickly, and he promises to return, and then runs off. You grin, and resaddle your horse, riding back home with a happy heart.

Back home, you start to worry. Worrying really didn't fit you, it was he always worried, and you to chase them away. But you paced back and forth, wondering if you would make a groove on the floor, wondering if it was going to rain, and worrying if he wouldn't ever come back to you again.

He seemed slightly different, and you become afraid that he wasn't yours anymore. You soon grew frustrated, and then angry, and then sad once again, for you know that it wasn't his fault. But the one thing you worried the most about, was that is his heart really yours?

You decided to pay him another visit tomorrow, during the night you try to think of things to say. You stayed up all night, compiling the letters that he had sent you, and the unsent letters you had written for him. You were shy again, and uncertain, and you finally fall asleep dreaming of letters, and of him running away from you.

You wake up before the sun rose, afraid of dreams now, and by the time the first light hit the window, you were already riding away off in the direction of the east.

He wasn't there. You waited for him, a light rain began to fall, and you wonder if he had forgotten about your visit. But you hoped that he was just late, he was always totally late, and any moment now, he was going to show up. But he didn't, and you become scared.

You come to the conclusion that his heart wasn't yours anymore, that he had forgotten completely about you in favor of a man with violet eyes who kept him captive in that large gloomy house.

The next day, your boss calls you to a meeting. He asks you if you've been feeling well, your boss's eyes an odd green that reminded you of somebody else. You didn't know what to say, you kept quiet and hoped everything was going to pass.

You smiled and tell him that 'nothing's like, the matter. I'm like, totally well.', and he starts the meeting. He tells you that he is fearful of the Eastern and the Western Nations wanting to intrude into your freedom again, and that you must somehow rise to a great militarian power.

His exact words were 'like the Commonwealth of long ago'. You felt like crying at that moment, and you ran to him, wanting to thank him for everything. He seemed surprised, and you promise that it was going to be taken care of.

And so while he writes letters and calls the other delegation, you saddle your horse, with a bright heart, dress in your cutest jacket and ride off. It was a bright sunny day when you left, one of those days that nothing wrong was going to happen.

You ride, everything seemed brighter, the pale pink of wild pansies were growing in the meadow, you pluck one from your saddle and place it in your hair. You give a light laugh and continue to ride, every moment your eyes becoming lighter, and your laughter echoing.

More pansies grew, along with the other wildflowers in the meadow. You plait them into a a bow, and you feel happy to be alive and free today where the air was cool and crisp. A light blush was on your pale cheeks as you continued to ride.

Once you arrive however, you lose the smile and wonder how you were going to break it to him. You walk closer to the garden again, and you see him, resting on the bench, the broom leaning against him. He looked tired, worn, and you start to run to him, to tell him to not allow everybody to bully him so.

But you catch yourself, remembering that you had a job to do. You shyly walk out of the underbush, into the garden. Any moment now, you expect him to notice you and open his eyes.

But he does none of those things, and you walk closer and finally you sit beside him, taking a deep breath. "Like, how are you?" Your voice comes out in a whisper, and that was when his eyes opened. He broke into a grin, tired, as if he didn't expect too much, but a grin nevertheless. You wonder if it was the time to tell him, but you don't want to break the moment between you two. It was too perfect, and you were still shy after seeing him.

"Just a bit tired." He replied, and you wonder if the faint blue-black mark on his face was a bruise of just the reflected shadow of the plant he sat beneath. You didn't want to ask, but curiosity got the better of you. Your voice feels funny, it comes out too quiet.

He looks at you, and asks if you are sick. You shake you head, and clear your throat again, and try to remind yourself that this was your best friend you were talking to. "D-did like, something happen?" You ask in a soft voice, gesturing.

He shook his head, head turning away, and you knew by this simple gesture that there was indeed something that was the matter. You smile, and he drew away from you.

"Like, this is totally going to change!" You tell him, and you couldn't see his face, but you could tell that he is smiling at you. You continue to rest on the bench for a moment, both silent, you wishing that there could be something to say to him. You want to tell him that things will be better now, but doesn't know how to put it into words.

"I'm like totally going to tell you away from here." You say once again, trying to cheer him up. Then wordlessly you walk back, leaving the wreath of flowers lying on the bench, as a promise.

* * *

A/N: Nothing really big happens in chapter 1. ^^

Historical Note: The Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth was formed by the union of the Kingdom of Poland and Grand Duchy of Lithuania in 1569. It was annexed by Russia, Austria, and Prussia in a series of Partitions, and after gaining freedom after WWI, Poland pursued a project-Międzymorze.  
The Polish name Międzymorze may be translated as "Intersea" or "Between-seas" and has also been rendered, from the Latin, as "Intermarum" or "Intermarium."  
The proposed federation was meant to bring back the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. While Poland put great efforts in the project, Lithuania saw it as a threat to it's independence.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Intermarium  
Author: fal1ingstars  
Pairing/Characters: Pol/Liet, Poland centric  
Summery: You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore.

Disclaimer: Do you honestly think I own anything?

* * *

You didn't know what happened between you two. But at least he is alive again, so you are happy. But there was a hatred in his eyes that you still couldn't recognize. You didn't know why he would be so angry at you.

You don't know why he was pressing his gun towards your temple, mouth clenched in a hard line. You didn't know what was the matter anymore, just that you were fighting against him. You breath slowly, remembering that it was a war, not a game, and fumble for your own gun.

You gun is a newer model then his, your technology is better, and you had learned from your past mistake that written papers can defeat armies. You know that he was at a disadvantage, fighting against you because he had to.

He was fighting for his own freedom, the idea was so absurd you could almost laugh at that fact. He was already free wasn't he? He was free to accept your offer of a marriage again, but he had turned this down.

So you did the only possible thing, you declared war against him.

It was for Interseas, Intermarium, for the Golden Liberty to rise up once again. Why was he so stubborn, you wonder to yourself. You know that it's the only possible way to solve this, to join together once again, unified, to defend yourselves against the encroaching neighbors. So you will yourself to kill his soldiers, telling yourself that you are doing it for him, to be reunited with him once again.

You want to be forgiven. It was a simple fact of life, you wanted to be forgiven. You don't want to see the anger in those dark green eyes again, but you have to. Until he could see reason, you whisper to yourself. And then he would be asking for your forgiveness, that you would readily give to your best friend and soul mate.

With that picture in mind, you continue fighting, wonder when or of if it would ever be over. It wasn't right, but you don't have another way.

There had been wars with Ukraine, with Russia. But you had never imagined that he would fight against you. He had always been your ally, and you citizens didn't know how to react. For centuries your culture had been intermingled with his, the war wasn't fair.

The war wasn't right, your citizens pleaded. But your boss was firm, if he refused to give up, then there would be war. You didn't have another choice now, and so donning your uniform, you speed off to war.

Your uniform didn't fit, the sleeves were too long, and you turn behind, pouting, wanting to say. "Toris, I totally need help!" But then you realize he wasn't there amid the others, he would never be there, he was against you now.

He was the enemy, and you fidget when the others start talking about those they had left behind to fight. You stay out of the conversation, sitting off in the corner, until they ask you if you had anybody waiting for you back home.

You reply something inaudible, and run off, leaving your incredulous men back there, making jokes about you.

If the war was won, you reassure yourself, if the war was won, you would have somebody back home again. The war felt so long, and as you shoot another man, you could almost feel him cringing, and there was a sharp pain in your chest.

You smile, and shoot. Smile a shoot. You never linger to see their faces, you never think about the many dreams disappearing because of a lover's spat, because of you. You know you, and you boss are indeed monsters to have tore away his freedom.

Then as more soldiers surged past, you could see that they were wearing the blue of the Soviet Uniform instead of the green of the Lithuanian army, and you don't care anymore. You aim and fire, and you fell asleep angered and betrayed.

There wasn't supposed to be any interference, and he had betrayed this treaty! If you had your way, you would have brought armies against him! You would have crushed this, but you were going to play by the rules. You polish your saddle, your gun, your belt buckle. You ride onto your horse, doing 'night patrol', and shooting at songbirds in your anger.

In your fury, you soldiers quickly took the Suwałki Region on a wide front, losing many of your soldiers, but happy at your progress. You boss reproached you for being so careless, but you smiled a devil-may-care smile, remind him that the war was of his doing.

He had nothing to say to that, and you mount you horse once again, and ride off to read the battle plans, the maps in peace. Soon you took over more territories, and a spy reported that the Soviets left.

You were joyful that night, your boss held a party, saying that it was only a matter of time until the war was ended for good, and that your soldiers were going to go home. You opened up a bottle of wodka in celebration, Polish wodka of course, and partied the night away.

But as dawn was rising, the soldiers who had better morale then they had for days, rode off into a trap. You sobered up after hearing the news, and mourned the deaths of them privately.

Most of your soldiers had fought long and hard, there was no mountains in his country, no where to hide besides the forests, where you used to have picnics with him, where you used to play ball when you were younger, where you had searched for mushrooms long and hard.

Where you had looked for the lisica, the rydz, purchawki, and of the borowiks, the colonial of the mushrooms who went to war. You remember that song, and hum it's familiar tune.

It was so easy to pretend that nothing had happened between you two, that it was just another mushroom gathering contest, where you would always win, since you would always steal the mushrooms from his basket.

He had never said anything, never seemed surprised when his basket was suddenly empty and yours suddenly full, and simply went back to finding them with a calm efficiency. You slide off your horse, smiling happily as you look for the largest mushrooms. He was going to be so envious of you!

And after going back, you would bother him, begging him to make mushrooms pierogi, and then make your own, and watch enviously as yours rose to the top, with the stuffing coming out, and wonder why he was so gifted with the pierogi making talent.

But after they cook, and the smell of mushrooms and beef fill the air, your jealous would disappear and your mouth would water, and he would cool a pierogi in water, to make sure you didn't burn the roof of your mouth, and feed it to you.

You continued to search. In the corner, there was a Cantherellus, with the large white caps, and there was a borowik. You pluck both and place them in the pocket of your uniform. You know that by the time you got back the mushrooms would be too crushed, but you didn't care.

You continue to look, unaware of the person standing behind you. He was silent, and as you finally turn you head up, you see his face. And you realize with a sudden joy that he was alone. "Like, OMG, I can't believe it's like you, Liet!"

"Sveikas" he replied, his hair was tied up, and his uniform was matted with blood and dirt. You could tell that his arm was bleeding, a dark red stain on the otherwise green uniform. There was an odd glint in his eyes, and you knew that it wasn't from the pleasure of of seeing you again.

"What are you doing here?" he demand, and you couldn't believe he was speaking to you in this way. You were best friends with him for goodness sakes!

His hand gripped his gun, and before you knew it, it was pressed against your temple, his eyes burning.

You turn back, moving slowly, raising your hand in the universal gesture of surrender, yet he doesn't lower his gun. You could tell that there was tears on his face, and you wait for the moment where he was going to pull the trigger, but you don't know when it was going to happen.

You close you eyes, breathing slowly. "I just like, wanted to help you." You say, and open your eyes again after a moment. You could see his hands trembling, and you remain calm.

You could feel the coldness of the barrel, and you wonder in a haze if he was actually going to shoot you. Your instinct tells you that he wouldn't, he used to be your best friend after all, but a small cynical voice tells you that he used to be your best friend. He used to be.

Not anymore. Behind the familiar face, there was something foreign. He probably hated you for what had happened to him for all those years. He hated you because you couldn't save him during the Partitions.

Your own gun was in your back pocket, and you silently remove it from it's holster. You watch him, taking it out deliberately. He was still struggling to press the trigger, you watched, surprised. But you quickly replaced the expression with a smirk.

You wonder why he's still hesitating. It wasn't a malfunction, and he finally pushed it. You could feel a whoosh of air, as the bullet was shot, speeding towards you. This was the end, you know it, but then you watched as it streaked off course, and he dropped his gun. "I can't do it." he finally said after a few seconds.

And you rush towards him, and his arms were around you. His gun was on the ground, and you smile. Everything was finally going to be okay again, he didn't shoot, and you promise that you would try to stop the war, that it was unfair, and you cling to him.

You wrap your arms around him, laughing, and kissing his lips. You could feel tears rising up in the back of your own throat, and you want this moment to last forever. But you remember what you were here to do.

And so gently, with your lips pressed to his, you press your own gun to his temple, his eyes widen, and you kiss him harder, your tongue enter his mouth with no resistance. You close your eyes, and wrap your arm around him, your other arm aimed at the back of his head.

You shush him, leaning close to him. "I like totally love you, and it's like totally for the best okay?" You choke on the last few words, and tighten your grip on the gun. He shook his head, and you smile sadly at him.

And finally, when you press the trigger, he didn't even have time to cry out. His eyes were staring at yours, and you couldn't bear to look at them anymore. He fell forward, into your arms, blood was in his hair, and you turned away. And cried.

A light rain was falling against your face, water and blood mixed, and you closed your eyes, and kissed him again. You could taste the copper taste of blood. You didn't kill him, Nations couldn't die. But you had, a voice told you. When he wakes up...

You hold onto him, his normally warm body was becoming cooler. You knew papers back home were being signed, treaties for Interseas, papers that made it clear that he was yours. You smile through your tears, and start to walk shakily in the direction of home. There was so much blood, so much blood that you felt dizzy, but you grit your teeth and carry him home.

* * *

A/N:The war!

Borowiks-A well known Lithuanian folksong tells of borowiks, a type of mushroom that went off to war. (I totally based it off Pan Taddeus)

Historical Note: The Polish–Lithuanian War was an armed conflict between newly independent Lithuania and Poland in the aftermath of World War I.  
According to Lithuanian historians, the war was part of the Lithuanian Wars of Independence and spanned from spring 1919 to November 1920. According to Poland, the war included only fighting over the Suwałki Region in September–October 1920 and was part of the Polish–Soviet War.  
Due to the negotiations, Lithuania 'lost' the war. The Republic of Central Lithuania was incorporated into Poland as the Wilno Subdivision in 1922.  
The reference to mushrooms were taken from Pan Taddeus


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Intermarium  
Author: fal1ingstars  
Pairing/Characters: Pol/Liet, Poland centric  
Summery: You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore.

Disclaimer: Do you honestly think I own anything?

* * *

He fought against you when he woke up. You forgot how fast he could be, and you received more then just a few bruises trying to get him to stay put. And he would run away, and hide. You would chase after him, on your horse, and finally take him back home, hands tied behind his back, and you wouldn't allow him out of your sight. You would smile and try to promise that you were doing this for the best, but he didn't care.

He continued to run away, you chased him back, you tried to promise, you tried to reassure him, and that you loved him, no matter what. You wanted him to remain here, where he could be safe, and he wanted to be free.

You didn't know how he could keep on going, or why his desire to get away from you was so strong. Sometimes he would calm down, and you would catch glimpses of his scars when he was changing. You would feel slightly bad, but promise yourself that you were doing the best, and that you would never hurt him like that-never.

You promise that you wouldn't do anything like that to make him love you back, you even said that you'd free the prisoners, allowing them to go back home, he refused to speak to you.

There was no relationship anymore, he treated you like you weren't even there, and although you tried for negotiations, he would ignore you and walk out of the room. And you watched as he left, trying to bring him back, and he would shake you off. He would walk out, you promised everything, but he ignored you.

You at first, pretend that nothing was the matter, that it was still like the old days. You would ask him if your uniform made you look fat, and you would ask him to help you fix the sleeves, and wash the bloodstains off.

You couldn't do it, after the first tries, and finally you chuck it into your closet. Hopefully to be forgotten, since it was totally in a hideous shade of green. You would sit next to him at dinner, complaining, and he would nod his head, and say nothing.

You were put out, but tried not to show it.

You could hear it. Rebellion. You could hear the news that they were rebelling against you, and you wonder why they were being so damned ungrateful towards you. You had saved them all, and this was the thanks you were given for it.

How couldn't anything be more wrong then this. Yet you give no indication to him, he was silently looking off into space, and you realize that you would have no place in his heart anymore, if this continued on.

One day a messenger hurried in, demanding a audience with him. He followed the messenger, who handed him a letter. He knew what it was about, and he took it and sat in his room. You could hear him crying at night, but you took no mind of it.

You continued to act as though nothing was the matter, and each day he got paler, and lost more and more sleep. Finally the messenger came back, and they talked in hushed tones. You watched from a window seat, and you only heard one word. "Yes"

You know what it was about. Your boss had talked about it with you, and you knew that he wasn't strong enough to fight anymore. War might have been coming, and he was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

It was a treaty, asking him to relinquish claims to the Wilno region that was yours. You knew that they were asking him to give up his heart, his capital, his pride and joy, but you allowed it. It was the one way that Interseas could work.

He had to give up something, so you would gain it.

You walked to the painting gallery, and a younger you stared into your eyes. Weren't you two best friends and partners? Why did you keep him here against his will like that? Why are you so cruel, so cold now?

That he was disappointed in you, , he would have never hurt his partner, his lover like this. And that he doesn't know who you are anymore, and you look away, into the eyes of Jagwiga, another painting. You want to reply back, to say that you were indeed protecting him, but you ran back into the meeting room.

Back in the room, you picked up a book, and started reading. Your eyes watered on the first few lines, and you placed the book back on it's shelf. You looked for another book, but they were all on old treaties, that was the book had made into a mass of papers instead of events that really happened.

You tried to make light talk with him, but he only have gave you one word answers, and you finally gave up and decided to stay silent.

He looked at you, asking what was going to happen, and you shake your head with a smile. "Like, it's just a operation. Nothing like, too bad. I promise you, it's nothing like what Russia did to you." You say, but you know it was a lie, and he does too.

You saw him cringe, but his face was placid. He smiled coldly at you, and you wanted to know what he is thinking. Wordlessly he walked into the room, a single bed was there, and a tall man in a white jacket walked towards you, gesturing for him to sit down. You reassure him that it was nothing, and he sat on the bed, and a doctor pulled a syringe out.

His expression was like a cornered animal realizing that he was going to die, and was resigned. You bite your lip, and your boss placed his hand on your shoulder, and you shiver against his touch. His fatherly eyes suddenly seem cruel, and you wanted him to leave.

"Why are you going to, like hurt him like this, Pan Piłsudski?" You mouthed at him, looking up into his green eyes, and at his crisp military uniform. How could he order this in cold blood, you wanted to ask. How could he do something like this, when he had promised peace after the war?

He sat down beside you, he looked calm, his expression motionless. He looked the militaristic general that he was, the militaristic visionary that had dreams and was willing to make every sacrifice, even the biggest sacrifice, for the greater good. For the Commonwealth.

He had called it, and you realized how ironic that was. For the Commonwealth. It didn't exist anymore, and could never exist anymore. And he and you were the last two people to realize that simple fact. He was calm in his reply. "I'm not, Pan Łukasiewicz, you trust me, don't you?"

You want to reply that you used to, but not anymore. You want to reply that you hate him, and that he was a cruel monster, a sadist, and you wanted to kill him. But you remain silent as the knife fell, a silver flash, and you felt like you were going to choke as the next cut came, you felt sick to your stomach, and run out, feeling bile rise up in your throat, running and then throwing up on the marble floor.

Why didn't you stop this from happening?He wasn't going to die, but he was so close to it.

They were going to make him suffer for the war, and you couldn't believe they were your people. So you walk back, and bury you face into your boss's jacket, and he said that it was for the best, and you tried to make yourself believe in him, because otherwise you wouldn't be able to live with the guilt. You didn't watch, and you hoped with all of your heart that he wouldn't remember anything.

It was a slow agonizing process, but finally you had his heart, in your hand. You felt no joy in it, and the doctor looked up at you. You boss looked at you. Both were expecting something to be said, and you finally choke out a 'Thank You' and you squat down on the hard floor, and take his hands into yours.

His hands were cold and numb, and you hold onto it for eternity, the doctor and your boss had already left the room, leaving just you two. There was a bandage wrapped around his middle, and he was covered in a thin blanket.

He was shivering, and you wrap the blanket around him. He was still cold, yet you watched him, slightly relieved that he seemed to be smiling in his sleep. Things were finally happening right, his heart was finally yours, and you don't care about anything else anymore.

And you pull a chair up against the bed, and you wait for him to wake up. You wait, holding your breathe when he didn't breath, eyes focused on his face. You gently brushed his hair away from his face.

And then he finally woke up.

You are happy now, aren't you? You have all that you wanted, but you wanted more. You have him, you even have his heart. But you wished that things had worked out differently. He was sitting in a chair, his eyes focused on the window.

You sit beside him, with a flower in your hand. He drew back, and you look at him in worry. He didn't speak anymore, he only sat there, he was like a doll, moving mechanically. he rejected your invitation to go mushroom hunting again, and you felt hurt.

There was no right for him to treat you like this. You had saved him, Intermarium, between seas. Now nobody would bother him again, nobody could hurt him but you, and you promised that you wouldn't do a thing such as this. You wish that somehow you could turn back time, go back to that fateful war, and fix everything up. He was next to you, but a world away from you. When you tried to kiss him, he would kiss back, but seemed distracted.

You were pulling on all his strings to get him to speak to you.

You don't know what had happened, but you do know that his heart would never be yours anymore, and rightfully so. You know that it was his, but you still kept it. So with a heavy heart, you try to go on living as usual. You smile for him, and he smile back, but with reluctance.

You promise that you won't hurt him anymore, but you can tell that he didn't listen to you anymore. You know that riots were happening, and that your soldiers tried to put them down.

"Feliks." He finally says, and your turn you head around, incredulous that he had spoken a word to you. "Why are you doing this?" He asked, and you don't know how to reply. So you fix your eyes onto a painting of Prometheus, and he follow you gaze. You stare at the picture of the Greek Titan for a moment, smiling at him. His eyes were smirking, even though there were chains around him, and vultures, or were they black eagles, came near him.

You continue to view the painting, and he tried to see what you were staring at. To him it was just a painting, so you explain. "It's like to basically protest against like, despotism." You say, you know that you aren't making much sense, in his perspective, but you didn't know how to explain it any better.

"Like, so Germany and Russia wouldn't attack us anymore." You added, and he continued to looked at you in confusion. You wrap an arm around him, and he didn't pull away for the first time.

"I want my heart back." He tells you, and your eyes look up for the first time. There was hope in his eyes, but you knew that you couldn't say yes. So you shake your head, and look away, and kiss him on the lips, gently, your eyes not waiting to meet his eyes. You won't give him his heart back, because if you did, it wouldn't be yours anymore.

* * *

A/N: The end, but an epilogue might come.

Historical Note: The 1938 Polish ultimatum to Lithuania was an ultimatum delivered to Lithuania by Poland on March 17, 1938. The Lithuanian government had steadfastly refused to have any diplomatic relations with Poland after 1920, protesting the annexation of Vilnius/Wilno.

The Polish ultimatum demanded that the Lithuanian government unconditionally agree to establish diplomatic relations with Warsaw within 48 hours, and that the terms be finalized before March 31. The establishment of diplomatic relations would mean a de facto renunciation of Lithuanian claims to the region containing its historic capital, Vilnius. Lithuania accepted the ultimatum on March 19.


End file.
